


Komme ich zeige dir wie grosse meine Liebe ist

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Knitting, M/M, Poetry, Polyamory, Relationship(s), Rugby, Scars, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scarred Nasir is a university student and has solace and friendship with Naevia, Mira, and Saxa.  He falls in love with brothers Agron and Duro. To say they feel the same way is an understatement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Komme ich zeige dir wie grosse meine Liebe ist

**Author's Note:**

> Title translates as 'Come, I'll show you how much I love you' and is from a song by the German punk band Die Toten Hosen. My husband's a big fan, thanks darling for helping me pick out the title :) Poetry in the end scene is from scraps of German poetry I found online.
> 
> **Warning** : contains sibling incest and a polyamorous relationship, plus vague allusion to past possibly sexual trauma/abuse.

 

 

Nasir learned a lot at university. He learned not to do shots with Lugo because Lugo would always stay more sober and laugh at him. The man was a menace at the bar. None of his challenges should ever be taken up.

 

He learned that Naevia fried the best breakfasts and never looked annoyed when he turned up at her door, needing company. Crixus almost always looked unhappy if anyone visited their apartment before midday. He seemed to make a sort of exception for Nasir though, even greeting him with a silent head nod and making him coffee. Then Crixus would kiss Naevia’s bare shoulder and smile privately at her. He didn’t seem to care that Nasir saw him do it. It was the sort of situation that would have made Nasir feel out-of-place and awkward if it was anybody else. But it was Naevia and Crixus and it just made him smile down at his plate instead.

 

Naevia never asked questions. She just gripped his hand and sat there patiently, listening if he needed her to. Often they simply drank in each other’s presences, a big I know, I’m here. I’ve been there. I survived it too between them. Sometimes she needed to talk and Nasir listened. He learned that you could be silent and that it would still help. He learned that he didn’t have to be alone in his aftermath.

 

He learned that Mira always had theories and that they were always best discussed over a large caffeinated drink and ridiculous rich cakes that they couldn’t afford. Mira’s ideas were wild sometimes, branching off from their lecturer’s original notes and forming new species in the soil. They were always interesting and she always looked so on fire when she talked about them, skin glowing and eyes alight with I can challenge the world. He learned that her barrage of words was comforting, because she cared.

 

He learned that Crixus playing rugby was always fun to watch. He had surprising grace packed into his powerful frame and never hesitated in taking out the opposing team in often unexpected ways. Nasir learned that he liked watching, sometimes sketching what he saw – Naevia’s delight and love, Crixus’s incredible skill and aggression, the formations of the teams, Saxa’s mouth open in a whoop. He enjoyed the bite of cold air on his skin, his hands in fingerless leather gloves, a red scarf looped around his neck. He thought that his parents would be glad he was out in the world again.

 

He learned that nightmares did begin to fade and that getting a single room had definitely been a good idea.

 

He met Agron and Duro and quickly learned that it was possible to fall in love with two people at the same time.

 

*

 

Agron and Duro were almost always together. Most people called them ‘the Germans.’ Crixus called them ‘fucking idiots’ but Naevia usually elbowed him and Agron and Duro always sneered and threw curse-soaked insults back. All three men worked really well together on the rugby field though. Nasir’s sketchpad was filled with their images.

 

He’d met them at one of the rugby games. There they were, tall and muscled with dreaded hair and matching wide smiles. His heart had lightened even then, just from looking at them. They’d come over after the game to talk to Mira about something that Spartacus was planning. Then Nasir was introduced and he'd found himself talking to them for the rest of the night. Despite Crixus’s constant growling about the brothers, Nasir had liked them instantly, their bluntness and exuberance and easy laughter and smiles. In Nasir's mind, they were two halves of the same person. They worked best when they were together.

 

Besides Naevia and Mira, they were the company that Nasir enjoyed most on campus and all three often sought each other out.

 

“Nasir!” Agron waved from across the courtyard, Duro close behind him smiling wide.

 

Nasir waved back, watching as they moved as one. He shook his head at himself. He’d first noticed a week or so ago when he’d been admiring a photograph of the team winning, a mud-smeared Agron and Duro embracing post-victory. His heart had warmed and jumped and he’d thought super fondly _they’re insane_ in a way that felt comfortable and right and more than just affectionate.

 

Then he’d caught himself, paling considerably, and went to find Naevia.

 

_Naevia handed him a beer, told Crixus they needed space, and then waited expectantly. She could apparently tell it was going to be one of those volcanic days when words just burst out of him. No matter what, Naevia would always stand beside him, like he would for her. That had become clear over the past year or so that they’d known each other. He squeezed her hand hard._

_“I’m in love with Agron and Duro.”_

_Naevia handed him a second beer and said simply. “Of course you are.”_

_Nasir blinked and the silence between them stretched. Naevia had always been a still-point, the calm centre of every storm. Nasir was more than grateful in that moment._

_He drained the first beer quickly. “I’m that obvious?”_

_“People always fall for them.”_

_Possessiveness sizzled through Nasir and his grip on his second beer tightened. He made an effort to relax and cleared his throat._

_“Like people fall for Spartacus?”_

_Naevia laughed. The devotion that Spartacus frequently caused in people was a source of constant amusement, especially since he often didn’t notice the effect he had on others. Naevia clinked her bottle against Nasir’s._

_“People fall for the **idea** of them, the same way that people fall for the idea of Spartacus.”_

_That made sense – people fell for Spartacus the sporting hero, the good and handsome man who always stood up for the underdog. Two fit similar-looking brothers known for their sporting prowess and doing everything together? It was a gender-bent version of wanting to fuck gorgeous identical female twins. Only Nasir had had that kind of fantasy before and what he felt right now was incredibly different. Naevia nodded at whatever she saw in his expression, like some hypothesis that she’d been toying with was now confirmed._

_“They date. Never each other’s exes, but……”_

_Nasir’s voice was quiet, raw, and completely certain. “I won’t be happy with just one of them.”_

 

*

 

Mira took one look at him and pulled several books out of her bag.

 

“These should help.” She frowned behind her sharp square glasses, tapping something out on her Blackberry. “And there’s a lot online from extremely good sources that could offer something….”

 

Nasir smiled in the face of her determination and helpfulness. She was a great friend. His mind drifted. She’d have been amazing to have around a few years ago when everything was fucked up. He and Naevia used to rehash it all the time – what they could have done differently, how they could have ended up with less scars and fewer nightmares. They’d always returned to the same answer; there was no logic to what had happened to them.

 

*

 

Agron and Duro often found excuses to touch him, to sling an arm around him, pat his shoulder, nudge his side. After a cautious few weeks and noting how tactile the whole group was with each other, Nasir had gotten used to it and began returning their attentions in kind. When they weren’t around, he missed the frequent contact. He especially liked how they didn’t treat him as though he was fragile, even though he knew that they were aware of what had happened to him. Their touches grounded him, kept him tethered, like breakfast with Naevia and Crixus did, and watching the rugby games.

 

Nasir remembered stories he’d heard mumbled pitch-side. Agron and Duro had been separated for a time – something to do with a specific class study trip that Duro had needed to attend in a different city for a week whilst Agron had had to stay behind. Neither of them had dealt well with the split. Agron had gotten sent off a lot more regularly during rugby games and he'd hit back hard. Duro had behaved wildly, scribbling reams of class notes on walls and climbing up onto roofs, staying up there for hours. The only time they behaved like that was when they were forced apart.

 

Nasir understood.

 

*

 

How did you tell a friend that you loved them, and their brother too? Mira would have graphs and spreadsheets and reasons and determination to boost him, and Naevia would be armed with smiles and a firm grip before looking at Crixus – her own impossibility – and saying 'You just do.'

 

*

 

Nasir was pasting newspaper lettering onto his largest piece of collage art, his head filled with Agron's dimples and terrible chat-up lines and Duro's smile. They'd been there for weeks, occupying his thoughts. They'd gotten too tangled up in each other's orbits for separation to ever be a healthy option again.

 

He smelled Duro before he saw him – rainwater and eucalyptus hair putty and sweat and fresh air. He breathed in a deep lungful, smiling softly at the warmth it caused inside of him. Then a hand slid over his ribs and lingered at his waist. Nasir twitched, wanting without saying for the contact to continue. Another hand slid down his arm. Duro was caging him against the table. Nasir couldn't help relaxing into the touch, as clear a sign as he could give. Duro didn't move away.

 

“There's a lot of red in that.”

 

Nasir shifted and Duro's skin touched his. There was an almost silent intake of breath behind him. Nasir's lips turned up at the corners, the warmth inside him growing. It didn't feel entirely hot enough though.

 

“Red can mean a lot of things,” he said quietly, adding another newspaper sentence.

 

Duro squeezed his arm firmly, a message skin-on-skin. There was nearby movement and Agron leaned against the doorframe. He looked comfortable and pleased, his worn green tee making his eyes seem even greener.

 

“You coming out tonight, Nasir?”

 

Nasir drank him in, his smell of locker rooms, motor oil, and the same fresh air-sweat smell as Duro. He wasn't close enough. Agron's smile flickered into something rawer, bringing the heat that Nasir had been craving. How could he not want to spend time with them both? He managed to nod.

 

Duro peeled away, leaving a void behind him. Nasir swallowed down a whimper. The look on Agron's face echoed the feeling. He playfully tugged his brother's hair, their eyes meeting in a silent conversation. They didn't linger, but their gazes swept Nasir thoroughly before leaving.

 

The quietness of the art room pressed in around him. The brothers had sought him out, tracking him down on the vast campus. Nasir picked up a bottle of dark blue ink, his hands hardly shaking at all.

 

*

 

Saxa's arms were always covered in self-made tattoos, created from coloured markers. She frequently changed her mind about what she wanted her body, and others’ skin, to say. Mira currently had beautifully-detailed hieroglyphics scrolling down her arm and across her chest. It was practically art. She’d collaborated with Nasir on photographs of the symbols for his art projects and for her wall.

 

Nasir had worn Saxa's body art before. There was no way to refuse her. The second time he'd sat with her at the rugby, she'd grabbed his arm and had drawn a green and red tree-frog on the back of his hand and a stream of purple stars with elongated tips along his arm. She'd never explained why. Nasir had taken a photo of it with his phone. It was still the picture that came up whenever Saxa called him.

 

Mira lay on the sofa, one leg and arm curled around Saxa. Saxa was laughing, her needles clashing and producing more green and blue knit. An orange sun orbited a deep green planet on her wrist and kanji writing wrapped around her forearm, mirroring the symbols splashed across her knee. Nasir sucked cheese and grease off his fingers and tossed a red pepper slice at Saxa who neatly caught it in her mouth with a triumphant grin. She was easy always-comfortable company and caused more smiles than anybody Nasir knew. She and Mira were a breathless combination.

 

He was answering Mira's questions about acrylic paint when Saxa lunged without warning and attacked his forearm with a black marker. Her eyes were fixed wide and excited and her teeth were bared in anticipation. She wasn't going to be stopped. Nasir could only stay still and watch curiously as Saxa wrote in German on first one forearm, then the other. She finished by writing a single sentence across his collarbones before sitting back on her heels satisfied.

 

Nasir looked at the words, the curling decisive cursive that made no sense to him. It was the first time he’d ever seen Saxa use black on anyone. She grinned at him, armed once again with her needles. Mira stroked her face fondly.

 

“What does it mean?” Nasir tried.

 

“It's a message.”

 

“Who for?”

 

Saxa laughed throatily and her needles clacked loudly, signalling the end of the conversation. Nasir took photos of the words to research later and tried not to smudge them. He eyed the discarded pen. Another first – Saxa had used permanent marker.

 

*

 

Naevia smiled when Nasir talked often and at length about Agron and Duro. She squeezed his hand, poured him more whisky, and cut through his words, just like he needed her to.

 

“Stop punishing yourself. Don’t throw away this gift just because you think it’s impossible.”

 

It was a gentle echo of what he’d once said to her, back when she’d been unsure about Crixus. He’d been right.

 

Then Naevia left that script behind and nudged him almost sharply. “You know, they’ve been as obvious as they can be without hiring a skywriter.”

 

*

 

Somehow Crixus had been convinced to let a lot of people into his apartment. It was pretty full that evening. The rugby team had gotten through to the finals and everybody was celebrating. Nasir was happy for them and happy to drink it all in. Crixus had an arm around a radiant Naevia and both of them were talking to Spartacus, whilst Mira in a plaid skirt and Saxa with plaid doodles on her arms mixed drinks and argued with Nemetes. Everyone knew where Gannicus had disappeared to.

 

Warm breath hit Nasir's cheek and Agron handed him a drink, Duro close behind. Their skin glistened with heat and their expressions managed to be both playful and intent. Nasir's heart gave a familiar yearning lurch. He licked his lips, a gesture he couldn’t stop making in their presence.

 

Agron’s callused fingers brushing Nasir’s collar. Nasir’s pulse jumped in response. “Saxa attack you again?”

 

Nasir swallowed. He’d been keeping the writing hidden, wanting to find its meaning out for himself before anyone else saw it. The research he’d done had only brokenly translated it into a confused handful of words that hadn’t strung together properly. Saxa had winked when he’d told her and had replied that they’d make sense to people who’d read the right poetry. Nasir’s breath had stuttered as he’d vividly remembered the brothers complaining about a mandatory class, the only one they’d shared with Saxa during the past year. A lot of their complaints had been about poetry.

 

Duro pressed closer, concern lining his face and a hand reaching out to Nasir. Nasir smiled wanly back. Trying to hide the words would only make the brothers more determined to uncover why. And he did feel it – the obvious heat and response from the Germans – but he was still touched by nerves, by the sensation of never feeling ready to try this again, of not knowing _how_. There was also the potential fallout; this could resolve the tangled pull between them, or it could snarl things up further. Saxa and Mira had no doubt intended resolution, one way or the other. Mira had said that he should trust them.

 

Nasir took a breath, luxuriated in the heat between them, and deliberately tugged his shirt sleeve up, exposing a forearm of writing. Agron and Duro’s eyes zeroed in on it. It was intoxicating to see their pupils dilate. Agron’s fingers reverently brushed over the inked script whilst Duro’s hands whispered over them both.

 

“Do you know what this…..?” he asked quietly, the loud music keeping their conversation private.

 

Nasir shook his head, hoping his expression telegraphed _I know what I want it to say_. Agron and Duro grinned, expressions suddenly heated and possessive. They nudged him towards the open back door. Through it was the block’s shared garden. Nasir had always liked spending time out there, drawing and soaking in the green surroundings. Now, it was the perfect place for privacy. Privacy he suddenly and desperately wanted.

 

The moon cast strange patterns through the tree branches and onto their skin. Nasir couldn’t take his eyes off the brothers. Before they could speak, he unbuttoned the other sleeve and revealed more words. Duro eagerly grasped Nasir’s arm and muttered the sentences softly, the sounds guttural and beautiful on his tongue. Agron’s chest pressed against Nasir, like he couldn’t get close enough. Nasir leaned back. He couldn’t get close enough either.

 

Agron’s voice poured into his ear, his hand gripping Nasir’s free forearm, firmly tracing a scar there. “You are mine, I am yours. Be sure of that.”

 

Nasir shuddered and Duro slid closer, his arm around Nasir and clasping his brother. They slotted together comfortably. Nasir gripped Duro’s shirt, as Duro traced the letters on Nasir’s arm, covering more scars and continuing the spoken translation.

 

“You are locked inside my heart. Gone is the key.”

 

All three’s breathing was laboured now. Agron’s forehead rested against Nasir’s temple. Duro’s thigh rubbed against his leg. Nasir lifted a hand to expose the words painted across his collarbones.

 

Duro and Agron’s fingers met his.

 

“I would burn upon your mouth in a dream of a thousand years.”

 

Lips and tongues began tracing the letters amid breathless yearning speech. Nasir closed his eyes. This was a dream. It had to be. But he could feel the heat of two bodies pressed against his and the perfect wet warmth of eager mouths on his skin. Mira and Saxa were going to be unbearable after this.

 

His heart overflowing and his hands holding tight to the men he loved, he opened his eyes.

 

_-the end_


End file.
